


The Hero and The Harpy

by LowerEastSide



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Anal Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fuck Or Die, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Rimming, Switching, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 00:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12783462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LowerEastSide/pseuds/LowerEastSide
Summary: When the Three Fates are bored, they set their sights on Harry of the Kerameikos and Draco, Prince of the Harpies - longtime enemies with potential for more.





	The Hero and The Harpy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [camaelczarka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camaelczarka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/340839) by https://camael-fanart.tumblr.com/. 



> Could not resist writing for this lovely piece of art! I first posted this to Tumblr in 5 parts. This is the cleaned up version.

The Fates themselves had a fate of their own. Spinning, spinning. Day in, day out. They wove the thread of each man's life, birth to death, and not even the gods themselves could change it. But on occasion they encountered an unusual thread to break the monotony.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of this one," Lachesis remarked, showing a bright gold thread to her sisters.

"Ah, I remember spinning that one out," Clotho answered. "The orphan, the hero. The one they've composed all those odes about."

"Is he coming my way?" Atropos asked.

"I thought he was, twice." Lachesis showed how the gold thread passed through warp and weft. "But I feel no direction now."

"Hmm. Has he settled anywhere? "

"He wanders. He continues to battle, although his feats should be done. There are knots, here, and here. I do not know what he battles for. Perhaps he is unwilling to accept it is over."

Atropos sighed. She was unsentimental, unlike her sisters. "Send him to me, then. Men never know when to give up and let their children have the world."

"That's just it, he has no children." Clotho peered over at the loom and laughed.

"He's as untouched as one of Artemis' girls? What a silly creature. I'm sure he could have any woman, with a fame such as his." She touched the thread and closed her eyes in thought. "Or any man, rather." She sprung back and clapped her hands, an idea clearly coming to her. Clotho always was the most girlishly excitable of the three.

"Dying a virgin is for dryads and nymphs! Let's have some fun. Is Apollo busy? I bet he'd welcome a pursuit."

"Do we really want to turn him into a tree or something?"

"We could always... make him do it." At her sister’s doubting stares, Clotho pouted. “It’s literally in our job description!”

Lachesis turned back to the loom. “I suppose I could fashion a new destiny. You know I prefer to let the threads speak their directions to me rather than overtly guide them, but…” She hummed to herself as she passed her fingers over the knots in the gold thread again. There was something recurring there. A _someone_. Her eyes lit up.

“Let’s give him a choice.” Quickly she held up her hand to stop Clotho’s objections.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be an easy one.”

***

Harry of the Kerameikos trod barefoot over the rocky soil. His sources in the town nearby had told him of an oracle that lived on this mountain. They had neglected to mention what an arduous journey it would be.

Not that Harry was a stranger to hardship. Raised as little better than a servant, then taken in by a philosopher whose motives had been unclear, Harry had spent most of his first twenty years at the whim of fate. A prophetess had spoken him a hero, and off he went. Tasks, quests, wars - Harry faced them all with the bravery expected of him, and was successful every time.

But now there were no tyrants to defeat, no nations to save. The monuments were built and the wreaths had been bestowed upon him, but Harry felt directionless in his life. He knew he was expected to build a stable life as a citizen, but something seemed unfinished. He was restless.

The only thing that seemed halfway fulfilling was traveling and offering his aid to people and villages in need. Often there were minor monsters to be fought - bands of roving centaurs, or beasts of the forest. _And those damn Harpies_ , Harry thought grimly. The winged creatures were a constant thorn in his side. They were no better than common thieves, stealing from farms and orchards and the occasional celebratory feast. He’d sought to find their lair, the stronghold of their queen Narcissa, but they were crafty, wicked things. They were mostly female, except for their prince, a pale and sharp-eyed man with a haughty smile. _Not a man_ , Harry reminded himself.

The prince’s name, he’d finally discovered after several skirmishes, was Draco. He arrayed himself in gold bands and black silk, and little else. Where the other Harpies were dark tressed and black winged, Draco possessed feathers and hair of glowing white. It almost hurt Harry to look at him. But such beauty, he reminded himself, only concealed a heart of evil. It was his duty to wipe them out, to save the hard work of the farmers who lived in this area. It had taken Harry five years, but he knew he was close to finding their nest.

But what would he do after he defeated the Harpies? Did he continue this aimless wandering, eternally searching for the next quest? Hopefully this oracle could tell him what he was meant to do next.

Pushing branches and leaves aside, Harry spotted the cave he was looking for. Cool air escaped around him as he entered, ruffling his hair. The soft noise of water boiling alerted him to the presence of someone in the back.

“Hello?” he called out. “I seek the soothsayer who lives on this mountain.”

Slowly a woman emerged from the darkness at the back of the cave. Her eyes were large and her hair wild. Harry nearly reached for his sword, but settled for backing away.

“I come to hear my fortune. I bring gold and jewels. Will you tell me?”

Cocking her head, the woman laughed. “Those I do not need. It is a gift, a gift, to have the sight. Come, I will read your leaves.” She gestured at the pot of boiling water. “Or cast your bones! Yes, hmm, let me see.” She pulled what looked like snake bones out of a pouch and threw them on the ground at her feet. “Ah! It is not good. Tea, yes, tea. Come. You may call me Sibyl.”

Harry approached her, his fear - what little he’d had to begin with - melting away. This was simply a strange old woman living like a hermit. The villagers probably told stories about her because she was a bit mad. He would have a cup of tea and make his way back down the mountain. Maybe the next town would have information on the Harpies.

When he finished the brew, Sibyl snatched the cup from his hands. “Ah! Ah! The black dog! Yes, death hounds you, my dear boy.”

“I’ll be sure to watch for it.” Harry got to his feet. “Thank you for the tea and the er… fortunes.”

“Yes, my boy, yes. Watch your step!” She moved toward the entrance of the cave to walk Harry out, and then froze.

Stunned, Harry watched as her eyes rolled back in her head. _“Child of prophecy, fate is not done with you_ ,” she hissed. Harry jumped back in alarm, and she continued.

_"Your death lies swift behind, swifter than the wings_

_Of your plague, your nemesis, unless this you heed:_

_You will win if you surrender, you will lose if you are victorious._

_To live you must turn foe to friend, battle to ecstasy,_

_You must lie with the viper in peace,_

_And the dragon you must defeat with love."_

With those words, Sibyl fell silent and collapsed to the ground. Harry rushed to her, and she sat up, blinking.

“Oh, oh, I am sorry, I do believe I am in need of a lie down. Reading leaves does take it out of me.” She climbed to her feet and turned to head back into her cave.

“Wait, what? What was that?! What about my death? My nemesis? What dragon are you talking about?” Harry was deeply confused. Unfortunately, Sibyl seemed to be just as perplexed.

“Dragon? My boy, there hasn’t been a dragon in these mountains for years.” With that, she shook her head and stepped back into the darkness.

Unnerved, Harry exited the cave, blinking in the sun. It was obvious the woman had no idea what she had said. Some god or spirit must have taken over her senses. Which could only mean one thing:

The prophecy was true.

***

“Do you think he understands?” Clotho whispered, looking down into the scrying bowl at the scene unfolding below them.

“I do, although he will have to get some interpretation. He’s always been a little thick, that one,” Lachesis answered. “Also, you don’t have to whisper, he can’t hear us.”

Atropos said nothing. There was still a chance she would see Harry of the Kerameikos sooner rather than later, if he was unable to untangle her sister’s riddle.

***

Laurel, willow, oak. Every tree has spirits, and the ones along this river were no exception.

Myrtle ran her hands through the water and playfully splashed the boy sitting on the bank. He was of course a boy no longer, fully in the flower of his manhood - if one could call it that - but Myrtle was ancient and still thought of him as a youth.

“Stop that,” Draco commanded in that imperious voice that made her laugh.

“You're the one come crying at my river. I'm only trying to cheer you up.”

“I'm not crying.”

“Brooding, then. Oh, don't give me that look! You know I love your company. No one else will come to see me.” She lay back in the water, seeming to blend into the eddying flow. “All the heroes chase the pretty nymphs in the forest. The ones who think they are too good for me.”

“Maybe if you didn't annoy them so much, you'd have more friends,” Draco grumbled. He idly drew the tip of one wing back and forth through the stream, unwilling to get his feathers any more wet than that, but enjoying the cool temperature. It had been scorching lately.

He was unsure why he still came to see Myrtle. She wasn't even a proper dryad, never in her tree but always in the river. Still, it wasn't as if he could expect his mother to listen to him, and he most especially couldn't talk to the others in his tribe. They were satisfied with snatching bread and fruit from unsuspecting humans, bickering amongst themselves, and practicing dark arts by moonlight, praying to Hecate.

Draco longed for something else. He was restless, and lonely. He sometimes allowed himself the pleasure of the company of young shepherds who came through the hills, but most of them hoped for an afternoon of bliss with a nymph or a muse, not a strange male creature of the air. And Harpies had a bad reputation for feasting on human flesh rather than caressing it - a reputation well-earned by his mad aunt.

Pouting, Draco rolled on his back, his wings splayed out around him. He was ever so bored. Another handful of water caught his white-blonde hair, sticking it to his forehead, and he lobbed a rock at Myrtle in irritation. It hit her with a splash and caused her body to ripple.

“Ooo! So cruel. Just for that I shouldn't tell you what I heard from the Oreads yesterday.”

“As if I care what those mountain sluts get up to.”

“You should, it's about that boy you always fight with. The one who stabbed you.”

“Harry of the Kerameikos?” That did catch Draco's attention. He sat up to face Myrtle, his wings perked up behind him. “He didn't ‘stab’ me, it was just a scratch. What did the Oreads say?”

“They said he's been _cursed_ ,” she reported gleefully. Myrtle always did love drama.

“Cursed to be a self-righteous pain? That's hardly news,” Draco said, trying to hide just how interested he was. That Harry was a constant bother. Draco had come up against him repeatedly over the years. The man had a knack for disrupting their best raids, the ones with fat pigs roasting during a festival, baskets of cakes and piles of fruit strewn about. The Harpies weren't stupid enough to take an offering from an altar of the gods, but the human’s portion was fair game. Not when Harry had his way, though. He'd appointed himself the protector of the weak and downtrodden, and made appearances at the most inconvenient times. Secretly, Draco liked these appearances; it broke up the monotony of his life, and Harry was certainly something to look at. Dark, tousled hair and bright green eyes, and a propensity for eschewing all clothing except a simple pteryges and chlamys, which showed off his warm, brown skin. Yes, Draco enjoyed looking at him very much.

“Cursed to lie with a monster!” Myrtle glided through the water and ended up uncomfortably close to Draco. “The Sibyl on the mountain told him -”

“The Sibyl is a fraud.”

“ _Told_ him, in a trance no less, that he would die unless he ceased fighting and lay with a serpent.”

“What, a regular sized one? Or like the Python?”

“Who knows? He has to ‘turn battle to ecstasy’ and ‘make peace with his nemesis’ and ‘love a dragon.’

Draco had opened his mouth to refute the possibility - oracles were notorious con artists, and peace? For Harry to quit fighting, that would take a miracle - but ‘dragon’… that gave him pause. Any prophecy worth it’s salt was surely a riddle, and not what it seemed on the surface. If it was true, then ‘dragon’ most likely did not mean the real thing.

‘ _Dragon_ ’ was also exactly what his mother called him, day after day.

***

After his unsettling encounter with Sibyl, Harry continued north along a dirt road. Three days into his journey, he came to a village that was having wolf troubles. His reputation preceded him, and they begged him to slay the beasts. It was a fairly easy task, and he found himself the center of a celebratory feast once more. He didn’t actually like the attention, but he gracefully accepted the honor.

The sacrifice was planned for later that day. In the meantime, Harry asked for information on the Harpies. Sure enough, they had ravaged this land, stealing olives and figs. No one knew where their nest was, though. Carefully, Harry also inquired if anyone in the village was versed in prophecy or riddles.

“Oh, you’ll want to talk to Horatius, down by the pond. He’s a philosopher and a healer.”

And so Harry found himself yet again at the doorstep of someone who might be able to parse his future.

The pudgy man who opened the door looked delighted to see Harry. “Come in, come in! I’ve been expecting you! As soon as I heard you were nearby, I knew you would want to see me.”

Had news of the prophecy spread somehow? Harry had told no one since his trip up the mountain. He hated when rumors spread about him. “I didn't realize it was common knowledge.”

“Everyone knows who you are. And of myself, of course. Notoriety is a blessing and a curse, eh?”

“I hadn't ever heard of you before, actually,” Harry told him honestly. “Someone in the village thought you might be able to help me with a riddle.”

This seemed to disappoint his host. “Horatius Limacis? Alchemist and scholar? Host of several philosopher’s schools? No?”

Harry shook his head. Horatius sighed. “It's just as well you're here, then. We should become acquainted. I can introduce you to many influential people.”

That was the opposite of what Harry wanted. “I'm really just here for advice, before I continue on. I have several things I can trade,” he added, pulling a few choice small gems he'd taken from monsters lairs along the way. Horatius’ eyes lit up and Harry knew he'd made the right move.

“Yes, sapphires like that are very useful… and I suppose it's my duty as the most educated man in these parts to share my knowledge…” He selected the largest stone from the pile and settled on a cushioned bench. “So, tell me this riddle!”

Harry recounted the prophecy as best he could remember. Horatius nodded and looked thoughtful.

“Riddles and oracles usually only repeat themselves to make a point very clear. You are sure it mentioned a nemesis _and_ a foe? They are likely the same thing, or person. And serpentine imagery repeated, as well. Surrender, ecstasy, lay with - honestly, it sounds rather sexual. The swift wings, hmm. Are you by any chance mortal enemies with a marathon runner, or anyone you would associate with snakes? A gorgon you battled, perhaps?”

“I’m not. I don’t know if I’m really ‘mortal enemies’ with anyone, not since, well. You know.”

“Well, it isn’t much of a riddle, I’m afraid. More of a standard instructive prophecy, couched in metaphor. Sleep with someone you consider your rival, that you associate with those things. Surrender.”

Horatius leered at him, and Harry became uncomfortable with the conversation. He could have figured most of that out on his own, anyways.

“Well, thank you for seeing me. I should really get to the feast.”

“I’ll see you there. I do, of course, have a place of honor here. Sit near me, we will share some of the choice vittles.”

As Harry turned to go, Horatius laughed. “And do have fun with your ‘‘winged serpent,’ whoever they are, but be careful. You know what they say back in my country. _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_.” Harry shot the man a startled look. “What?!”

“Are you not versed in Latin? ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”

Oh.

Oh, _no_.

***

The celebratory feast began in the late afternoon. Harry was too distracted to pay attention to the sacrificial rites, throwing barley at the appointed time but otherwise lost in his own thoughts. Once Horatius had said that name, it all clicked into place. Could it really be that he was fated to lay with that beautiful, terrible creature, or else die? He stared into the flames, wishing some god or another would whisper the truth in his ear.

The more he turned it over in his mind, the more it made sense. Draco the Harpy was a plague, he did have wings, they had done battle. And he was named for a dragon. If he hadn’t been such an evil thing, it wouldn’t even be a hardship for Harry to be near him, as stunning as he looked. But to go as far as the prophecy commanded…

Harry had never been touched like that. At first, it was just timing. He was young and always engaged in warfare. After that, it always seemed like people wanted him for his fame, and didn’t know him at all. He liked to help, to set things right in the world, but it wasn’t for acclaim or glamour. At the end of the day, he just wanted a good house on some good land with a good… person.

There was no way he’d ever get Draco to be with him, anyways. He despised Harry. They’d only ever spat invectives at each other. The last time they’d clashed, Harry had managed to get one good swipe at the other man with his sword, catching him across the chest. The look of absolute hatred that Draco had thrown his way before he retreated, bleeding, had struck Harry to his core. At the time, he thought it was a bit of fear of eventual retaliation. But maybe it was that deep down, he didn’t want that lovely face to be twisted in such malice, especially directed at him.

Now he was second-guessing every encounter with Draco. Was this always there, under the surface? Isn't that what fate meant? He’d been guided by oracles his whole life, now was not the time to start doubting them.

It was just Harry’s luck, that after everything, his death came down to this.

***

The villagers were passing around kylikes of wine when the flutter of wings drew Harry’s attention.

He spun around on full alert, ready for the Harpies to descend on the feast, but to his surprise only one dark shape loomed in the trees at the edge of the clearing. Horatius and everyone else around him were already quite drunk, so it was easy to slip away.

As he approached a spreading oak tree, he came face to face with the subject of his confusing thoughts. Draco, half-hidden in the leaves, leaned out and stared down at him.

“I heard something very interesting about you, Harry.” Draco laughed at Harry’s obvious surprise. “All those years in the wilderness, and you still don’t understand. The trees have ears, the mountains watch, the waters speak. I know all about your oracle.”

It was a taunt, but it seemed like Draco wanted to discuss it. Harry knew the avian beings had human speech; he’d traded insults with this particular one for years. But that didn't mean they could be reasoned with. Many of the monsters created or sent by the gods had the power of tongues. Sphinxes, Gorgons and Cyclops could all converse, but that didn't imply they had the rational mind of a man. They were driven by base desires.

It was those desires that Harry was supposed to inflame, though, if the prophecy was right, so he decided to risk it. Maybe the Harpy was more like a person than he’d previously thought.

“Why don’t you come down from that tree and talk to me like a man, Draco.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and dropped down a branch. “You never call me by my name. It's always ‘foul bird’ or ‘wicked pest’ or the like. Or you skip the words entirely and prick me with your sword.”

“I know. But this time I don’t want to fight. Get out of the tree and speak with me like a civilized creature.”

Draco snorted. “Civilized. I've got a civil word for you. No.” He was still suspicious of that blade at Harry’s side.

Harry bit back his retort. _You lose with victory_. “Please,” he ground out.

The first kind word that Harry had ever thrown his way seemed to intrigue the Harpy, and he jumped down to the lowest branch that nearly grazed the ground. “Go on.”

“Well, you’ve already heard the prophecy, so I don’t have to explain it to you. Do you think you know what it means?”

“Hmm. Yes.” He idly brushed a leaf off a bare arm. Harry stared at the pale skin, then realized he was blushing and continued.

“Do you have any opinions on that?”

“Are you asking me to fuck you?” Draco answered blatantly.

After a moment of shocked silence, Harry turned away. “I guess I was asking you to help me. I don’t really want to die.” He wasn’t even sure how it would happen. Would he drop dead? Lose a battle? Oracles worked in strange ways when they predicted death.

“That's not my problem, is it? Are we _both_ going to die? I've got no reason to help you. You’ve tried to kill me several times, if you recall.”

“I’m defending things that don’t belong you, it was never personal.” That was a straight up lie, it had become personal fairly quickly, but Harry was trying to be diplomatic.

Draco’s wings stiffened behind him. “It’s predator and prey out here. Do you want us to starve?” He glided the rest of the way down and approached. “I think you do. I think you see us as nothing but disgusting animals.”

“You aren’t disgusting,” Harry said quietly. He’d never been this close to Draco without swinging a weapon. His eyes were storm-grey, and he smelled like the forest.

“But you don’t see us as people. That’s fine, I suppose, we aren't.” His wings spread and shook as if to illustrate the point. “We live differently than you. But I have thoughts and feelings like a man. I don’t want to die, either.” He glanced down pointedly at the sword that Harry was still touching lightly.

Bravely, Harry dropped his arms to his side. “Would you like something to eat, from the feast? There’s roast pig and honey cakes.”

Draco froze, and then sneered. “Really? Are you going to just walk over there and ask for more food? ‘Oh, I need a portion for my would-be lover. He’s one of those monsters you ask me to murder, but it’s ok, I need his cock in me if I’m to keep gallivanting around the countryside like a proper little hero.’ I’m sure that will go over just fine.”

“It’s my feast, I can get food if I want! And wait, in _me_? Who says I have to be the one to take-”

A rustling in the woods drew both their attention. “Is your family here?” Harry asked warily, his hand going back to his sword.

Draco jumped back and spread his wings wide to take off. “Dammit. I told them not to follow me. That smoke from the altar just smells so good, though.” He swooped halfway back up the tree and clung to the trunk, peering back into the forest.

“Stop!” Harry called out, Draco turned back around, and Harry thought he caught a glimpse of regret on his face.

“I don’t want to deal with you right now. I’ll tell them this is a bust, nothing good, and a nasty do-gooder waiting to attack.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Harry was pleased at the concession. “I didn’t want to fight tonight, especially not with you.”

Draco sighed. “I’ll consider that a last request, then.” He took off from the tree, and hovered in the air just above Harry.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Oracles are a bitch.”

“Wait!”

It was no use. As Draco flew into the night air, Harry wondered if he’d change his mind.

***

That night, Draco returned to his nest of soft grass in the cave where the Harpies slept. He tossed and turned until morning, unable to forget the look of kindness on Harry’s face when he offered him a part of the feast. What did he think he was playing at? They'd never been anything but enemies to each other. Was one stupid prophecy enough to change his opinion on Draco?

It was entirely absurd.

There was a fire between them, certainly. It was mostly anger and loathing, but it was passion nonetheless. Even after Harry had wounded him, Draco had found himself hoping to see him, if only to break up the monotony of his life.

Perhaps that was it. They’d merely begun to enjoy the sparks that lit between them. It wasn’t a big leap, to turn hatred to ardour. Draco had seen it among his own kin countless times. But humans were different, he’d thought. Humans craved a softer touch.

He had never been opposed to sleeping with those not of his kind. He’d been with enough young men idly waiting for their sheep to return from grazing, and the occasional maenad lost in the woods after a night of frenzy. There was even that faun, once. Most of the creatures of the wild were rather loose with their affections, except for those nymphs who'd sworn service to a goddess. None of his previous humans had been self-righteous pricks, though. They were in awe of his beauty, fascinated by his wings, and ready to give in.

But in the end, wasn’t that boring? Harry presented a challenge. He seemed ready to follow the prophecy, if his behavior the previous night was anything to go by, but what would he do when actually faced with the moment of truth? Could he really strip himself bare for a thing like Draco? Could Draco allow himself the pleasure of one night with a man that had persecuted him so?

Sunlight began to fill the cave, and Draco dragged himself out of his nest. Before he could answer any of those questions, he had to answer to his mother for not returning with any spoils yesterday.

Narcissa was already awake, perched on a rock at the entrance to the cave. She wore a rich blue himation, edged in silver, and looked deep in thought.

Draco adored his mother. She had the same soft white wings as him, with golden blonde hair. Harpies were the children of Oceanids, “the wind blowing off the sea,” as he’d heard it told, but Draco had been born to Narcissa herself. She’d doted on him as a young boy, and he still sought her comfort and love well into adulthood.

Narcissa was a firm but fair leader. They called her Queen, even though there were no more than twenty of them in the group at any given time. Her sister was far more outwardly fierce, and her habit of sneaking Draco along on raids when he was still a boy had been a point of contention between her and Narcissa, As he grew older his mother relented and granted him a leadership role. He’d tried to make her proud, and support the small tribe as best he could, even when his life felt monotonous, which is why he was now desperately trying to think of an explanation for last night’s failure.

“Good morning, mother. Did you sleep well? It was late when I returned, I did not want to wake you.”

“That was kind. I slept well, though I had hoped to find some fresh fruit when I awakened.” She looked at him pointedly, and he cringed.

“Yes, the smoke we smelled was from a smaller feast than it seemed, and it was well guarded.”

“Indeed. Bellatrix told me you came back to warn them of that. It was the same man who harmed you before, wasn’t it?” Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“It was just a scratch, mother. But yes, it was him. I think it was a coincidence, he wasn’t looking for us.” He came to sit at her feet. Both of them stretched their wings out, warming them in the rising sunlight.

Narcissa gave him a knowing look. “You’ve seemed distracted the last couple of days. Is it because of what the Sibyl said about that man?”

Draco blanched. “Where did you hear about that?”

“I asked Pansy and Daphne if they knew the cause of your troubles. The dryads had filled them in.”

“It’s his prophecy, not mine.”

“Darling, if there is one thing I’ve learned, it's that prophecies ensnare everyone around their target, especially anyone mentioned.”

Draco was beginning to understand that. “He tried to talk to me last night. It was strange. He spoke to me just like I was any other man. Gods, he even offered me food. I think he’s desperate.”

“Hmm. So he believes it, then. Do you think you’ll help him?” Draco stared at her in shock.

“Why should I want to? He’s caused us nothing but grief.”

She reached over and stroked her finger along the edge of one wing. “You’re fluttering. You always do that when you’re excited about something. I think you want him.” She laughed gently at his pout. “You know you can’t hide anything from me, dearest.”

It was true. No matter how impassive Draco tried to keep his face, his wings always betrayed his emotions. “It could be novel, I suppose. He’s rather handsome when he’s not charging at us, yelling like a madman. But what do I do afterwards? Just fight him like before? I can’t allow him to drive us from every sweet feast. It seems unsporting to lay with him when we’re just going to return back to form.”

He sighed, and continued with the thought that must be shared by every other Harpy that knew the situation. “If I deny him, and he perishes, he’ll be out of our way for good.”

“I’m not sure you wouldn’t perish, as well. Oracles are tricky.” She sounded truly worried. “But if you take him, he may find himself unable to attack you anymore. Humans are sentimental.”

Realization dawned on Draco. “You want me to do it.”

“I think it’s something to consider. Mind you, be wary of him. Stay in control of the encounter. If he harms you, I’ll tear him to shreds,” she added, her voice turning into a growl.

Draco folded his wings back and stood, allowing his mother to envelop him in her own. “Whatever I choose, I promise I’ll be careful.” He nuzzled into her feathers. “Thank you, mother.”

She sighed into his hair. “Please, do. I know you’ve grown up, but you’re still my baby, and I love you.” Humming softly, she stroked him with a wingtip. “You used to be so small I could wrap you up completely.” He remembered: nights spent in her lap, covered by a curtain of downy white.

He wished life were still so simple.

***

Also plagued with worries, Harry spent a fitful night in Horatius Limacus’ guesthouse. He woke before the sun rose, and quietly slipped out. After the encounter with Draco, the philosopher had paraded him around as a friend at the feast, and Harry had eventually taken to downing cup after cup of wine in an attempt to drown him out. The man meant no harm, he knew, but it grated on Harry to be used as a prop.

His head was still swimming after his grape-soaked evening, so he walked down to a cool stream he had seen on the way into town and took a quick dip. Refreshed, he decided to follow the course of the water down to the sea. It would be a half a days walk to the coast, and he’d have time to sort his thoughts out. He certainly had a lot to consider.

Draco had been straightforward, and Harry found himself admiring that. He’d also been very curious about Harry. He could have just stayed up in the mountains and watched to see if Harry would indeed die, but he’d come down to speak for himself. Harry thought that he might be starting to understand Draco. Even though he and his kind committed what were considered crimes in human civilization, Harry could see it wasn’t out of evil or spite. They were only trying to live in a way that made sense to them. Just as Harry didn’t hate the wolves he had slain recently, he found he didn’t hate the Harpies. Draco’s sharp tongue was something not possessed by most beasts of the forest, of course, and that was what had raised Harry’s ire every time they fought. He didn’t appreciate being taunted and called a mindless hero.

That was what he was, though, wasn’t he? Raised to do battle, sent out against the unnatural forces of the world. He’d never had much choice, and when he finally did, he’d only chosen to continue down the same path. Why would someone so free and wild as Draco want Harry, anyways?

 _I’m only good for fighting_ , he thought to himself. This whole oracle thing had really hit home. He'd never stopped his battle, never gone after what he really wanted, never bothered to find love. He didn't know if Fate decided on men's destinies or simply sent them down to seers, but it was fitting that in order to continue living, he had to stop living the way he was, at least for a day. _Now who's the philosopher?_

As the path sloped downhill, Harry slowed his pace. It didn't really matter if he came to any realizations about himself. He'd blown his chance with Draco. He'd been demanding and cocky, telling the Harpy to drop out of his tree and then assuming he'd like to share a meal. Harry had been attacking him for years, he needed more than just a honey cake to win his trust. And now it was probably too late. Harry had no idea where to find him, even if things could be mended between them.

Another hour passed while Harry was lost in his thoughts, and he almost didn't notice the strange creature crossing his path. Gasping in surprise, Harry jumped back; a small four-footed animal with wings and a beak squawked and leapt in the opposite direction. Immediately a large hairy man came crashing out of the woods surrounding the path.

“Mind where you’re walkin’!” He leaned down and picked up the unusual animal. It made a hissing noise at Harry before settling down in the man’s arms.

“There you go, everything’s fine. Been lookin’ for you all day. How’d you get out?” It whined, and the man turned to Harry.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Hippogriffs are an independant sort. Happens with the winged creatures.”

“No harm done.” It _was_ rather cute, and Harry approached with an outstretched hand. He’s-” The hippogriff growled, and Harry pulled back abruptly. “-adorable, really.”

Beaming, the man shifted the hippogriff under one arm and held out his own hand. “Name’s Hagrid! Do you like animals, then?”

Harry mostly ate or slayed animals, but he kept that to himself. “Oh, I love them.”

“Ah, me too! I live about a mile back up the slope. I take care of all manner of orphaned beasts. Not just the non-speakin’ ones; centaurs, sirens, you name it.” He patted the baby hippogriff. “Hard enough to keep em’ in when they only have feet.”

“Do you encounter a lot of animals with wings?” Harry asked curiously.

“Well, griffins and hippogriffs pop up sometimes. Pegasus is one of a kind. Love to see him, someday. A siren’s got wings, and a lady’s face, but they’re more bird than maid. Can’t keep em’ when they’ve grown.”

Somehow, this man might have just the information Harry needed. Maybe Fate hadn’t totally abandoned him. “Where would I start looking for a Harpy?”

“A Harpy? Why do you want to go messin’ with that sort?”

“It's a very long story. I'm pretty sure I offended him, and I need to let him know I didn't mean it.”

“Him?” Hagrid scratched his head. “Never heard of a boy Harpy. They're all of the female kind.”

“Trust me, this one's all man.” _And how_ , Harry's subconscious chimed in.

“Well, Harpies are proud creatures. They always think they're in the right. My best advice is to not tell him he's wrong. You don't need to necessarily apologize, just don't hurt his vanity. But for god's sake, don't roll over too much. He'll take advantage. His kind are made to devour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Best look close to the water. They’ll nest on higher ground, but they come from the sea, and they can’t resist it. You aren’t too far off from the shore.”

Harry thanked Hagrid profusely, and picked up his pace. He’d been headed in the right direction all along. Maybe Draco had retreated to the familiarity of the seaside after their spat.

***

To Harry’s annoyance, the road down to the coast had come close to another town on the way. He wanted to avoid people, and anything they’d want to ask of him. So he took a detour, and ended up on a promontory overlooking the ocean about an hour before sunset.

But there was no one for miles, just the lapping waves and the distant cry of seabirds. He paced for a while, agonizing over what his decision should be. If he didn’t find Draco here, should he spend the rest of his maybe short life looking for him? Should he just accept his doom? Why should he even bother to try, if he was just something for Fate to play with?

Eventually he laid down and relaxed into the grass, and tried to be calm. Whatever happened would happen. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe he’d turn into a flower, like Adonis, or float away on the wind like smoke.

Or maybe a boar would gore him to death next time he went hunting.

“Argh! This is unbearable.”

A strong breeze blew all the grass around Harry, and then he heard a drawling voice.

“Oh, I completely agree.”

***

Draco watched in amusement as Harry sprang to his feet and drew his sword, before realizing who had spoken to him. About three yards away, Draco hovered just off the sharp promontory. The slowly sinking sun reflected brightly off his golden armbands, and his scrap of black silk fluttered in the wind, leaving little to the imagination. He’d drawn his short knife almost unthinkingly at the perceived threat, so Harry let his own blade fall limply to the side.

“It’s you.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

“I wasn’t,” Harry said stubbornly.

“Hmm, so you were just going to wander off and die? It’s a good thing I found you.”

“I wasn’t going to wander off, or- or run after you, or- participate in this whole farce!”

“That’s a different tune than you were singing last night.” Draco was confused. “You seemed to be asking for help with the prophecy then.”

“Screw the prophecy!” Harry shouted. “I don't want to be her toy!”

“Whose?” Draco looked around.

“Fate.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “There are three of them you know.”

***

The three women watching the scrying bowl smirked as one.

***

“Anyways,” he continued haughtily, “I've decided I want you.”

That silenced Harry. “You... decided?” he asked after a moment, bemused. “What if I've changed my mind about the whole thing?

“I don’t think you really want to die. And,” Draco added, gazing down at Harry predatorily, “I think you want me, too. You should see how you’re blushing.” Harry reddened further, and Draco laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s lovely.” He beckoned for Harry to come closer, still hovering just out of reach.

Harry couldn’t help it - the unearthly sight of Draco, suspended in mid-air by the beating of those wings, was compelling, and he stepped forward almost without thought.

“See? This won’t be such a hardship, will it?” Draco smiled, and there was a hunger in his expression. “You're lucky you're handsome. I could just eat you up, you know that?”

“It's in your nature to devour,” Harry whispered, entranced. Was he like a Siren? Did Harpies have the power of enchantment? They now were face to face, with Harry at the edge of the cliff.

“What does _that_ mean,” Draco asked with an edge of irritation in his voice, Harry shook himself out of whatever had overcome him, and glanced down at the knife.

“Are we fighting?” Draco’s fingers tightened on the hilt imperceptibly, and Harry knew he would have to be the one to make the first move. The one to _surrender_. He tossed his sword away with a pointed look.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Draco threw his weapon aside as well and brought his hand up to Harry’s face.

It was a more tender touch than Harry had expected. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before. It also brought the situation into sharp focus. He was about to be touched in _every_ way that he never had. He couldn’t help but shudder.

Draco noticed Harry flinch, and it angered him. He was proud of what he was, a strong, fierce being of otherworldly beauty, special and rare. He knew what many humans thought of him, though. Monstrous, unnatural; they feared what they didn't understand. Harry was only trying to see him as desirable because he knew he had no other choice, that was all. Well, Draco would give him what he needed, but he didn't have to be nice about it. This wasn't a sweet encounter between lovers. Somehow that saddened him, and it made him even more angry. Damn Harry for making Draco feel sorry him.

Draco leaned in quickly and pressed his lips to Harry’s before the man could argue. He stepped back in shock, and Draco alighted on the ground in front of him. He gave Harry no chance to recover before he kissed him a second, third, fourth time. It wasn’t long until Harry’s mouth opened with a sigh and their tongues slid against one another.

The deeper kiss seemed to melt the last of Harry’s resistance, and Draco pulled him close. He tugged at his dark, messy hair and mouthed kisses down his neck. The wind swept Harry’s long red chlamys between them, tangling up, so Draco pulled the pin holding it on and let the ocean breeze carry it away. It appeared as though Harry was going to protest, so Draco simply shut him up with another kiss.

Meanwhile, Harry was on fire. He had never felt a sensation like this, like he was burning up from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Draco knew what he was doing, playing Harry as if he were a fine-tuned lyre, stroking down his sides, and then plucking at his nipples. He wanted to respond, but the situation had gotten out of hand rather quickly. He also didn’t know exactly how to touch his lover, how to please him. He settled for nipping at Draco’s lips, which brought a pleased sound.

With a firm, sure touch, Draco let his hand drift further down. The leather pteryges was difficult to grip through, so he simply pressed his palm against Harry’s cock, which had fully hardened underneath.

Harry threw his head back and gasped. Oh, this, _this_ was what he was missing. After so many years of lonely wandering, of self-sacrifice, this ardent touch from a one time enemy made him feel more alive than he ever had.

Draco watched Harry fall apart in his arms, and felt vindicated. Even if he’d been put off by Draco, even if he’d resisted his fate, Draco was making him feel as wild as any creature of the forest. He would make Harry crave his touch.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered harshly in his ear.

Harry was beyond words, and whined something that sounded like ‘yes.’

“No. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to lay with a monster, a _beast_.”

Harry could hear the insecurity in Draco’s voice. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want a beast.”

Draco froze, and Harry pulled back and locked eyes with him.

“I want _you_ , Draco. I want you.”

Harry's admission that he wanted Draco had the Harpy desperate for more. He spun Harry around in his arms and started kissing up the back of his neck, sucking here and there, leaving marks.

“I can't wait to have you,” he growled.

 _Wow, he moves fast_. “Am I…” Harry swallowed anxiously. “Am I the one who has to take it?”

“Didn’t your riddle say to surrender?” Draco murmured in a low voice, close enough that Harry could feel soft puffs of air along his ear.

“I don't know if it was quite so specific.” He wasn't being truthful; it _did_ say that, and as soon as Harry had worked out what the oracle meant, he'd let himself imagine how it might happen, and it usually ended with him on hands and knees. It was both arousing and intimidating.

“Obviously a strapping young hero like yourself is used to being on the more _forceful_ end of things,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and biting at his nape, “but maybe it’s time to try something new.”

Harry laughed shakily. “All of this is new.”

“Yes, I’m sure you've never lowered yourself to consorting with things like me before.” Harry thought he detected a bitter tone in Draco's voice, despite his previous reassurances.

“I haven't ‘consorted’ with anyone,” he admitted. Behind him, Draco ceased his kisses. Harry turned in his arms to face him. “Is that a problem? Do you not want me now?”

Draco held the trembling human and stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You've never… but you're…” How was it possible that Harry was untouched? He was famous, celebrated in every town that he came to, and beautiful. Surely the grateful masses had flung themselves at his feet.

Draco stood unmoving while Harry leaned his face into his chest, unwilling to be seen in such a vulnerable moment.

“I wanted it to mean something,” he mumbled. Draco tipped his chin up and looked at him sadly, feeling a sudden sympathy.

“And now it won't mean anything, will it. Just something you have to do, like all your fighting. I'm sor-”

Harry cut him off with a forceful kiss, feeling bold. “It means everything, I think. To be with someone I nearly killed. I've only known violence. It's fitting that it's you.”

None of this was going how Draco expected. He thought he'd swoop in, have a little banter, some angry sex - which would be amazing, no doubt - and use Harry's human sentimentality to coax him into leaving his tribe alone. Instead he had a nervous virgin who was sweet and almost shy, but learning quickly. Draco didn't want to be the wicked thing that ruthlessly deflowered the hero, as willing as he seemed. No matter what passed between them, be it hatred or passion, they'd always seemed like equals. Harry was right, it _was_ fitting that they come together like this, and Draco had an idea that might level the playing field.

“I definitely still want you,” he reassured Harry. “Let’s try it another way.” He bent down to lick and nibble Harry’s small brown nipples, while his hands unbuckled the leather skirt that was keeping him away from his ultimate prize. Harry whimpered and clutched at Draco’s shoulders as he was bitten and teased, but lost his grip as Draco dropped to his knees to finish undressing him.

Once the pteryges was off, Draco was faced with Harry’s cock. It was mouth-watering: slightly curved, flushed and thick, a bit more than a comfortable mouthful, he guessed. He glanced upward and locked eyes with Harry, who was staring down at him in astonished anticipation. Without breaking the gaze, Draco grasped him and stroked up and down several times, until Harry couldn’t help but close his eyes in bliss. When he opened them again, it was to the sight of Draco opening his mouth.

Draco gave Harry’s cock a firm stroke with the flat of his tongue, up the entire length, ending with a swirling lick at the head.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing?” Harry was overwhelmed by sensation. It was wet and soft, but with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Didn’t you say it’s in my nature to devour?” Draco grinned up at him, and then went to work on Harry’s cock in earnest, sucking half the length in his mouth. He found he had been correct - he couldn’t quite fit the whole thing without relaxing his throat. After a few tries, he managed to get his nose down to Harry’s tight dark curls, and swallowed.

Harry cried out, and his hands flew up to tangle in Draco’s silky hair, as white as his wings, which were quivering as he blew Harry expertly. It only took a few minutes before Harry was tensing, close to orgasm, and Draco had to stop. He didn’t want it to be over quite so soon. He took Harry’s hand in his own and pulled the mortal off shaking legs to kneel beside him. They started kissing again almost immediately.

“Is it - oh! - should I - mmm - roll over?” Harry asked. Draco smiled and pulled back.

“Didn’t I tell you we’d try something different?” Harry looked perplexed. “I thought that was the sucking thing.”

Draco laughed and nuzzled his ear. “Do you want to be inside me, Harry?” he whispered breathily.

“Do you mean that?” Harry said, awestruck.

“Oh, yes,” Draco said, reaching down to pull off the gold band that held the simple black cloth at his waist.

Harry watched hungrily as the final barrier between them was removed. He’d caught more than one glimpse of Draco’s pale arse when they were fighting - that scrap of fabric could barely be called clothing. But it somehow had always managed to stay in place at the front.

No longer denied, Harry looked his fill. Draco was pale everywhere, but his erect cock was flushed pink. He was a similar size as Harry, but his length was surrounded by soft white down. Harry wanted to taste it, like Draco had tasted him, but Draco was already leaning back and away. He supported himself on one arm, while bringing his other hand up to hold his cock. Harry gulped, and Draco looked at him knowingly. He spread his legs and reached down to cup his own balls.

“This part requires a little bit of preparation.”

“What do I do?” Harry asked. He wanted to make this as good for Draco as possible.

“I can do it to myself.” Although it was rare for him, it wasn’t Draco’s first time on the receiving end of things, and he knew how much he could take. He held his fingers out to Harry. “Suck,” he commanded.

Harry licked and sucked the three fingers that were presented to him until they were very wet. “Now what?”

“Just keep kissing me. Touch me, too.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Harry, finally given permission, moved forward. He lightly ran one finger up Draco’s cock, stunned at how soft it felt, and then took it in his hand. He moved up and down unsteadily, unsure how hard he could go. He didn’t have to worry; Draco moaned and pushed his hand away.

“Not yet, too much,” he gasped. Harry moved up to pinch Draco’s pert, pink nipples instead, remembering how much he’d enjoyed having the same done to himself.

 _Gods, he’s good at that_. What Harry lacked in experience he was making up for with enthusiasm. Draco worked one finger, then two into his tight hole, stopping occasionally to break their kiss and spit into his hand again. If Harry hadn’t been so new at this, Draco would have demanded he eat him out first, but he thought that might be a bit much for a novice. This would have to do.

It took some time, but eventually Draco had scissored three fingers into himself, and couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his hand away. “Get your cock wet,” he said. Harry’s eyes went wide, and he licked his palm before grabbing himself, and moved to lay over Draco.

He put a hand up to stop Harry. “Not on my back. I can lay on my wings myself, gently, but during this kind of thing they feel crushed.” He rose to his knees. “I can go down on my hands, or climb on top of you. Your choice.” Secretly he hoped Harry chose the latter, as that would leave him with some control.

Harry didn’t think he wanted his first time to be simply lying there. Also, with Draco’s back presented to him, he’d have a clear view of the soft feathers he wanted to touch so badly. “I want to be behind you.”

 _Ah, well_. Draco had never actually been in this position, always unwilling to leave his delicate wings to the mercy of grabbing hands. Somehow he trusted Harry, though. He bent down into what he hoped was an enticing pose and wiggled a little. Harry licked his lips.

“Come and take me then.”

Hesitantly, Harry knelt behind Draco and braced one hand on his pale back. He was unable to resist palming the globes of his arse, before taking his own cock in hand. He slicked himself up again. “Just… now?”

“Yes, now. Slowly, though.” Harry spread Draco’s cheeks, and moaned a little bit at the sight of his pink, winking hole. “Yeah, alright. Alright.”

With a steadying breath, Harry pushed against Draco. Almost immediately the head popped in, and both of them gasped.

“Oh!” Harry couldn’t believe how tight and amazing it felt.

“Ah!” Draco tensed up, and then willed himself to relax. He knew it would be worth it once Harry was all the way inside. He pressed back into the stretch, eliciting a moan from Harry. “Yeah, give it to me.”

Harry was lost in a world of pleasure he’d only dreamed about. Snug heat surrounded his cock, and his entire world narrowed to the point where they were connected. Mindlessly he obeyed Draco, pushing forward slowly until he was completely inside. “Stay just like that,” Draco ordered, as he got used to the feeling of Harry deep within him. After a moment, he exhaled shakily. “I’m good, you can move.”

Harry still went slowly, pulling out only about halfway before thrusting back in. Eventually he needed more friction, and pushed faster. Draco’s erection, which had lagged, hardened fully again. Harry didn’t know if he was supposed to assist him with a hand, or if Draco would do that himself, or if it was even needed. He didn’t want to ask and sound stupid, so instead he ran his hands up Draco’s back, towards the place where his wings grew out. He was holding them flat and to the side, so that it almost looked as if he were soaring underneath of Harry. It was a compelling sight, and Harry couldn’t resist stroking one. Draco turned back and gave him a questioning look.

“They’re so beautiful. May I…?” He leaned over the soft white wings, and Draco nodded his assent, ready to withdraw consent at the hint of pain. Harry didn’t yank on his feathers, however. Instead he traced the sensitive points on Draco’s back where they transitioned from feather into skin. They were surrounded by what looked almost like scales at the base, and then tufts of down. It was the first time Draco had been touched there, and he arched his back in surprised delight.

“Fuck that’s good!” He pressed his arse back into Harry, urging him to go harder. Harry gripped his waist and started pulling him back on his cock.

“Yes, Harry, fuck that’s _so_ good, knew it’d be fantastic, love your big cock, fucking ruin me with it, uuunnghh!” Harry almost commented on how vocal Draco was, but he was too busy pounding him. Draco keened at a particularly strong thrust.

“There!” Harry tried to hit the same spot again, and Draco’s wings flapped madly. Unfortunately for Harry, he caught one full in the face. “Ow!” He stopped for a moment in shock.

“Shit, I’m sorry, it’s hard not to move them.” Draco looked chagrined, but Harry started laughing.

“I should have expected that.”

“I’ll try to keep them under control?” Even as he said it, Draco knew that Harry would be risking another slap if they continued in that position. He’d looked unsure at the suggestion that he lay on his back, though. Thinking quickly, Draco motioned for Harry to pull out.

“Sit back,” he told him, “with your legs crossed.” Harry obeyed, wanting to return to the sex, and Draco angled himself directly over his cock, with his legs bent on either side.

Draco kissed him thoroughly before sinking back down, taking Harry inside himself. “Ohh, yeah, fuck, that’s so much deeper than before. So good.” Harry agreed, although he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. The only way to get leverage was to lean back on them, but that meant he couldn’t touch Draco. Eventually he settled for propping himself up with his left arm and pulling Draco toward him with his right, his fingers in soft white hair. Draco rode him at a fast pace, his wings fluttering so hard that Harry briefly worried they might take off. He also continued to babble filth and curses between hot, wet kisses, and it turned Harry on quite a lot. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Draco felt more in control like this, bouncing in Harry’s lap, and he was rocketing towards orgasm. He wanted to make Harry come first, as a point of pride, and he clenched tighter around the cock inside him. Harry moaned in rapture, and Draco knew he had him. He licked into Harry’s ear, and whispered fiercely, “Come for me, Harry. Oh please, please come. I _need_ you to come inside me.”

That did the trick, and Harry’s fingers tightened almost painfully in Draco’s hair as his orgasm broke over him in waves. Draco twitched and gasped as he was filled up, and his hand flew over his own cock.

“So close, so close… Yessss!” he cried out, coming at last in long spurts over Harry’s chest.

He continued moving until both of them were oversensitive and spent, and pulled off, falling to the side. Harry lay back, panting, and stared up the sky. It was dark now; the sun had set around them. Neither of them said a word.

***

The three Fates, already voyeuristically inclined, had watched the entire scene in rapt fascination. Atropos, usually the silent one, turned to Clotho.

“This is the _best_ idea you've ever had.”

***

The stars were beginning to twinkle when Harry finally drew up the courage to speak.

“I never knew it could be like that.”

“I’m just that good,” Draco mumbled into the crook of his arm where he was hiding his face. He didn’t want to admit to Harry that it never _had_ been like that before, not for him.

Harry sat up beside him, wrapping his arms around his knees, and stared out over the ocean. He wasn’t sure what to say next. ‘Thanks, see you later?’ ‘Can we do that again someday?’ ‘Please never go back to the way we were, I think I could fall in love with you?’ He scoffed at himself for that last thought. Draco was a wild creature, and Harry didn’t know what love was. They had tapped into a deep passion between them, but it could never last. Could it?

Draco finally peeked out and looked over at the man beside him. To his shock, Harry had several scratches beginning to redden on his shoulders. Draco must have held him too tight while he was riding him. He didn’t have claws, but his nails were sharp.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, tentatively tracing one long mark. Harry jolted, not realizing he’d been injured until that moment. He turned to face Draco.

“Do you care?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a stupid question. Draco had been understanding about his naiveté, and given him nothing but satisfaction.

Draco looked away over Harry’s shoulder, but he answered him directly. “It isn’t like a battle. I don’t want to hurt you during this. I know it’s new for you, but sex shouldn’t be violent.”

Harry cupped his cheek to turn his face back towards him. “It wasn’t, and you didn’t. That was the most amazing experience of my life.” As they looked into each other's eyes, Draco could tell that he meant it.

He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he still had to address their future.

“Now that I've done this,’ he said cautiously, “you have to leave us alone.”

“Done this? Like a favor?” Harry cast a wounded look at Draco. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I did,” Draco quickly reassured him. “But you have to agree, we can't go on fighting after this. You have to stop attacking my family.”

“I can't do that.” Harry held up a hand to silence Draco's interruption. “If I don't interfere, the villagers you steal from will just fight back themselves, and they aren't any match for your kind. People will die. That's the whole thing I try to stop, you know that.”

“But we-”

“I don't want you to starve, either,” Harry agreed. “I won't lie, I'd always seen you as animals in the past, just something to defeat. But now…” he trailed off.

“Now that you've had me,” Draco answered. His mother was right, humans were sentimental. He didn't know why he was disappointed it had taken sex for Harry to treat him as someone worthy of consideration. It had seemed like more than that in the heat of the moment.

“It wasn't this. And I think we had each other, by the way,” he smiled. “No, it was when you came to me earlier in the forest. I could see you had pride and fears, emotions like any other man.” This wasn’t really the conversation Harry wanted to have in the afterglow, but he supposed it had to be done. “Do you really depend on raiding villages that much?”

“It’s a supplement,” Draco explained. “We hunt, and find some fruit on our own. But we don’t farm or bake, or plant trees. We’re also fundamentally lazy.”

Harry considered this. “I think if you stopped taking expensive things like pigs, it wouldn’t be so bad. There really aren’t so many of you that the villages around your nest can’t share. They’re just afraid to encounter you.” His eyes lit up with an idea. “What if they leave you offerings and let you take from the orchards and fields when they aren't around, in exchange for staying away? If you don’t attack them, your presence is actually a benefit, since you guard your territory from other things like gorgons.”

Draco paused in thought. “Like an apotropaic sacrifice? That could work. My mother has been trying to exert a civilizing influence on our tribe most of her life, and would be fine with us hunting for ourselves and participating in something like that. I can't guarantee everyone will go along with it, especially Aunt Bellatrix, but most of us will.” He smirked. “Offerings are even easier than theft.”

“A civilizing influence, huh? I wonder what she would think about your dirty mouth,” Harry teased. Draco smacked him on the arm.

“I am a perfect gentleman in front of my mother.”

“Maybe I could meet her someday. Is she much like you?”

The thought of Harry meeting Narcissa was a bit unthinkable. “She is, but she isn’t. For years she’s been trying to get our tribe to have more control, to not lose their tempers or raid without planning. But she doesn’t want to interact with humans, I can tell you that much. I probably shouldn’t bring you around.”

Harry looked disappointed. “Where’s your father?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a father.”

Draco shrugged, causing his wing to slide against Harry. It felt like silk, and Harry shuddered. Gods, he was getting turned on again.

“Harpies are born from ocean nymphs sometimes, but they don’t usually have children of their own. My mother actually gave birth to me, but she’s never told me the story. Refused, in fact. She loves me very much, though. She calls- er, used to call me her ‘secret special baby.’”

Harry gave him a knowing look. “She still calls you that, doesn’t she.”

“No!” Draco protested. “I’m grown up now!” Harry started laughing, and Draco shoved him. “Stop it!” When he didn’t stop, Draco pinned him down and started to tickle him.

“Ah! Mercy! I give up!” Harry squirmed and bucked, and the movement brought their cocks together. Both men realized at the same time how hard they were again.

“You, um…” Harry swallowed. “You want another go?”

“Oh, yes,” Draco whispered into his mouth, happy to leave their serious conversation behind. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Harry filed that knowledge away, intending to bring it up later. “You want me?” he asked between kisses.

“I said yes.”

“No, I mean… do you want to be on top this time?” Draco pulled back and looked at Harry in astonishment. “But you said you liked fucking me before.”

Harry bit his lip shyly. “Yeah, I know, and I did. I really, _really_ did. But it sounded like you enjoyed yourself so much, and I’d gotten myself used to the idea that it would be me taking it before you changed your mind. I think I was secretly looking forward to it.”

Draco had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky. Not only was Harry gorgeous and sweet, he was a _switch_. The Fates loved him. Did Harpies even have destinies like mortals? No matter. Draco was going to sacrifice a bull at their altar.

***

Meanwhile, the Fates themselves were clapping in giddy anticipation.

“More, more!”

“We’re so lucky,” Lachesis sighed. “We’re going to have to replay this for Aphrodite, you know.”

***

Harry leaned up and kissed Draco firmly, drawing him back down. Draco was glad that Harry was taking the initiative, despite being untried and practically begging to be fucked. In Draco’s opinion, there was no ‘passive’ position in sex, no matter whose cock was in whose arse. Unfortunately every mortal he’d been with had either been intimidated by him, or awed by him, which could be enjoyable for a moment, but didn’t incite him to heights of passion or hit that right balance of give and take. This encounter with Harry continued to surprise and delight him. His wings fluttered in happiness, and Harry eyed them greedily.

“I didn’t get as much of a chance with these as I wanted. Can I touch them again?” He reached up and stroked one wing, gently. Draco shivered. “Yes, please, just give them space to move.”

Harry ran his palms over the broad part of the wing, then stretched his arms around Draco while bringing him down into a deep kiss. He rubbed his fingers over the little downy parts where they emerged from Draco’s back, and the Harpy whimpered. “I had no idea this could feel so good.” His cock was leaking on Harry’s thigh, and he rubbed against him, arching his back as Harry’s ministrations drove him wild. “Everyone always wants to just grab them, so I never let them get so close.”

“I love them,” Harry admitted. “Thank you for trusting me with them.” He didn’t squeeze or yank, just continued to gently trace the attachment points with his fingers, and Draco sank into the warmth of his touch. “They’re so soft here, where it’s almost like fur.” He grinned, remembering what other part of Draco was covered with down.

“Can you roll over for me?” Draco arched a pale eyebrow. “I thought it was your turn.”

“Mmm, we’ll get to that, but I have to do something first. I won’t lay on you, don’t worry.”

With a shrug, Draco arranged himself on his back, already missing Harry’s touch on his wings. Before he could blink, however, Harry's questing fingers returned, this time stroking the pale fuzzy feathers around his cock.

“Why do you have feathers here but hair on your head?”

Draco burst out laughing. “You’re face to face with my cock and you’re trying to figure out why I have hair? You are far too coherent, I think. You should let me fix that.”

“I think it’s my turn to drive you crazy,” Harry said, and sucked the head of Draco’s cock between his lips.

“Ah! Warn me, will you?” With a gasp, he fell silent, as Harry stroked his balls and took half Draco’s length into his hot mouth. After only a minute of Harry’s inexpert but eager fellatio, Draco batted him away.

“Is it not good?” Harry asked, unsure.

“Your mouth feels like heaven,” Draco assured him, “but I thought you wanted to get fucked?”

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he nodded. “How do we…”

“On your knees I think.” Harry looked disappointed. “I wanted to see your face.”

“Another time,” Draco answered, sitting up and kissing his lover, not even realizing what he’d just promised. “But I need to prepare you, and this will be easier.”

Harry looked apprehensive again. “I thought I did, with my fingers, like you did to yourself?”

Draco knelt behind him, and took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Smooth, brown back, tensing muscles, firm globes. Yes, this was a feast worth raiding.

“Trust me, you’ll love this.”

He gave Harry no time to argue, and leaned down to lick a quick swipe along his crease, while reaching around to palm his cock.

Harry made a strangled noise in his throat. “What the hell are you doing?! Is that a thing people do?”

“Mmmhmm,” Draco affirmed, now spreading Harry’s cheeks and giving the furled hole a good firm lick. Harry’s arms gave out and he fell forward onto his elbows. This was _filthy_ , but it felt beyond good. There was a finger now, as well, tracing his opening and pushing gently in. Then the tongue was back.

“I guess you can keep doing that if you want,” he panted.

Draco laughed softly at how easily Harry had given in. “Thanks for the permission.”

With that he drove his tongue into Harry’s twitching arsehole until the man underneath of him cried out. Draco kept up a steady pace, licking and sucking, alternating thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of his fingers. Soon enough, Harry was opening beneath him, pushing back into two fingers, then three.

Harry had never felt anything like this. Was he supposed to want something bigger inside him? Was he meant to want to be split open on Draco’s lovely prick? He could still taste it, and wanted to open his whole being to Draco.

“Please! I want it, give it to me, _please_.”

With one hand on the nape of Harry’s neck, holding him down, Draco lined his cock up.

Even though he was looking forward to the gratification he knew it could bring, Harry was still nervous, and he tensed. He felt the man behind him start to hesitate, and reached back to grab a bony hip, pulling that lovely cock back towards him. Harry glanced over his shoulder, and caught Draco’s eye. “Gods, do it, _please_. Fill me up, Draco.”

With a noise like a sob, Draco pressed into Harry, In one slow stroke, he buried his cock in the tight, wet heat that had tantalized his tongue and fingers. It felt smooth and warm around him, and while he had wanted to wait for Harry to adjust, he couldn't help but start thrusting a little as he worked his way deeper.

Despite the licking and stretching, Harry’s arsehole burned as it was filled by Draco’s substantial cock. For a moment, he nearly shouted for Draco to stop. But something in him said that waiting would be worth it, and gradually the back and forth motion started to bring him pleasure. After another minute he was bucking back into Draco, pleading silently for him to go faster.

Draco was lost in his own world of ecstasy. No random encounter with a shepherd in the forest could compare to this. Harry’s back arched, the muscles twitching, and Draco nipped at his flexing shoulders. He felt in charge, like he possessed the hero falling to pieces underneath of him, but at the same time he was lost.

“Fuck Harry, you feel so tight and perfect, you’re sucking me in, you feel how your arse wants to be filled? God yeah, gonna fucking fill you.” Evidently Draco was just as vocal when he was on top.

Harry couldn't believe the noises coming from his own throat. The continuous pressing of Draco’s cock into him, the sweet slide of the fat head repeatedly over one particularly amazing spot, was causing him to to go mad. “More, more!” he urged the man behind him, feeling more wanton than he’d ever imagined he could.

Draco obliged, his wings fluttering madly as he picked up the pace, slamming into Harry over and over. “That’s right, beg for it, gonna give you this cock, fuck it right into you.” Harry wailed as Draco’s prick went deep, hitting exactly where he needed it to, and he bore down as he neared completion.

The sight of the trembling, sobbing mortal beneath him, coupled with the increasing tightness, was too much for Draco to take. “Fuck, I can’t, oh god, coming!” He dug his fingers into Harry’s hips and started pumping him full, come dripping down around his still thrusting cock.

Draco shuddered to a halt and pulled out. “No, don’t stop,” Harry begged him, right on the edge. Spreading his cheeks, Draco took an appraising look at his own come dripping out of Harry, before burying his face in his arse and sucking. Simultaneously, he reached around and took Harry’s cock in his fist. It only took three pulls before he was shrieking and coming all over himself, the grass, and Draco’s fingers.

With one last delicate lick, Draco backed off. He noticed Harry was shaking, and it worried him, but he needed a moment to catch his breath.

***

The Fates also needed a minute to compose themselves. Fanning herself, Lachesis looked over to Atropos.

“I think they’ve fulfilled the prophecy quite nicely. Shall I weave their threads together?” Harpies did, in fact, have destinies as well.

“You know the winged one lives far longer than a mortal. You’d be gifting the hero extra life.”

Clotho nodded vigorously. “They deserve a reward. That was _stunning_.”

***

Harry tried to raise back up into a sitting position, but quickly gave up and rolled onto his side instead.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked, a tremor in his voice. Harry motioned for Draco to join him, and they lay on their side facing each other. Smiling, Harry reached out and laced his fingers through Draco’s.

‘I’m more than alright. That was fantastic, you inside me.” It was true. Harry even thought he’d want to do it again. He felt a sense of peace, a sense of _rightness_ with Draco. “Next time I want to be in your lap, like you did to me.”

“Next time?” Draco was shocked - did Harry think this could continue?

“You said another time,” Harry said, doubt creeping into his voice. “Was it not good for you?”

“It was -” _It was a revelation_ , Draco’s mind supplied. It was also a complication. “It was perfect,” he confided in Harry. “But I don’t know what comes next.”

“Don’t you want to be together?” At the stunned look on Draco’s face, Harry backtracked. “No, it’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I know this was just for tonight. Thank you for even doing it. You didn’t have to save-” His words were cut off by Draco’s mouth on his, but he pulled away from the kiss, still hurt. He tried to take his hand back, but Draco lifted it to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

“You’re the most confusing thing that’s ever happened to me, Harry. But I think you’re exactly what I was looking for.”

Harry beamed. “Really?” Draco nodded. “I’ve just been drifting with no excitement in my life. Then you came along with your oracle, and - well, you’re infuriating, but you’re also wonderful. You certainly aren’t boring.” He petted Harry’s soft, dark locks, which were more tangled than he’d ever seen them. _He looks good well-fucked. I could wake up to this every day._

“I’ve been drifting, too,” Harry said, nuzzling into the touch. “It’s not that I mind traveling, but it’s just so lonely.” An idea was forming in his head. He knew it might only be afterglow, but he was nothing if not courageous, so he bravely went forward.

“Come with me. I want to go see the world for myself, not only where I've been called to kill.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “Be _with_ me.”

Draco mulled it over. He’d thought he couldn't talk to his mother about his boredom and dissatisfaction because he had responsibilities, but she'd been so accepting about the oracle he thinks she might understand this, too. “I need to talk to my mother about the new way of things, what we discussed before. Come find me here in a week. I’ll give you my answer then.” Harry’s smile was brilliant, and Draco already knew what his answer would be, but it couldn’t hurt to make him wait a little. “And don’t come near the nest. Aunt Bella will try to eat you once she finds out about this.”

Harry nodded in excitement. “One week. Alright.” He yawned, the exhausting day and evening finally catching up to him. “Don’t go until tomorrow, ok?”

“I won’t,” Draco said, pulling Harry close. He stretched one wing out behind him, but tucked the other around the tired mortal in his arms.

Harry buried his face in the downy feathers, and his breathing evened out. Bemusedly, Draco realized he was falling asleep.

“Goodnight my little hero,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, settling down for the night himself.

“Goodnight, my lovely Harpy,” Harry whispered back, before sliding into sweet dreams.

***

“That was the most fun I’ve had in centuries,” Clotho declared as they allowed the scrying bowl to return to a simple blur. “We have to do that again, sometime.”

Lachesis peered at the loom. “Remember the Celt that used to travel with Harry?”

“Mustelinus? The redhead? He was very handsome.”

“I know,” Lachesis leered. “Another Harpy? That girl one, Pansy, she looked so sad when the dryads told her about our prophecy. I think she wanted our Draco. Perhaps she deserves a consolation prize.”

As her sisters laughed and plotted, Atropos rolled her eyes. They weren’t going to get back to work any time soon.

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [ Tumblr!](https://lower-east-side.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The Three Fates, or Μοῖραι, are: Clotho who spins the thread of life, Lachesis who allots the fate, and Atropos who cuts the thread. 
> 
> In later writings the Harpies were described as pretty nasty but earlier writers like Hesiod called them “lovely-haired” or simply as wind spirits. The original Harpies were daughters of Thaumas, a sea god, and Elektra, an Oceanid (sea nymph.) How did Narcissa get Draco? Where is Lucius? IDK. 
> 
> I didn’t feel like changing Harry Potter’s name to something mythologically-appropriate but I did make an archaeology joke with it. The Kerameikos was both the potter’s quarter in Athens and an important cemetery. 
> 
> ‘Draco’ is already Latin, the Greek would be Δράκων but why mess with perfection?
> 
> Horatius Limacus - Horace of The Slug (‘Limax’ is Latin for ‘slug’)
> 
> ‘Mustelinus’ is Latin for “of the weasel’ 
> 
> pteryges : skirt of leather strips  
> chlamys : cloak  
> himation : cloak that is wrapped around the body and one shoulder  
> Apotropaic : rituals of ‘warding off.’ These are ceremonies of aversion, unlike ‘Therapia’ which is service, generally to Olympian gods, characterized by a shared sacrifice (this is the kind of ritual the Harpies in this story would be raiding, a feast) or votive offerings where someone asks a god for something and vows a gift in return if it happens. 
> 
> I imagine the landscape of this AU to look like the area of Mount Parnassos.
> 
> This is unbetaed, so if you catch any spelling or grammar errors feel free to let me know.


End file.
